


Her Makeup Stains

by dearxalchemist



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: F/M, Set 3 Years Post Season 1, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2465942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearxalchemist/pseuds/dearxalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years of culebra slaying has passed before Seth leaves her. Kate embarks on her own personal crusade to continue the good fight.  She takes matters in to her own hands and does whatever it takes to get the job. She's borderline reckless and plays the role of bait to lure out the monsters. Kate embarks on a night of dancing. The music is pulsing around her, blocking out the world as she closes her eyes and tilts her head back. This is her church now and the fellowship is an old face she never expected to see again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Makeup Stains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theredhoodie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredhoodie/gifts).



> This work is a gift for the incredibly talented author, theredhoodie. She's phenomenal and spoils the hell out of me. She also edited out all my crappy mistakes and puts up with me. (See! I wrote her this fic and made her edit it. I'm such a bad friend.) So this work is all for you, Cielo. Thank you for all you do. I could write novels full of thank yous for you. Gratzi for everything you do.

Seth has left her.

 

He’s drowning himself in a bottle of cheap tequila, lost in some city in another place, another town far away from Katherine Fuller. She’s edging on twenty years old and all grown up. She’s no longer plank-like and her hair is brushing the back of her elbows as she leans over the bar, tapping it with a chipped nail. After nearly three years of wandering Mexico with the older Gecko, Kate finally let him go. Maybe one day they’ll find each other again but for now she wants to dance.

 

He left her money and a car. He also left her a set of skills she’s never going to give up. Three years of culebra slaying has built up lean muscles and a high pain tolerance. She no longer resembles the preacher’s daughter. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the gold cross around her throat. Kate never takes it off. It’s the only thing she has to remember her father by. She doesn’t want to remember her father’s death, only his life. The same went for her brother and even Richie, who Seth had given up on.

 

Kate hasn’t given up the search for Scott or Richie. Tonight, though, tonight is for dancing. Tonight is for forgetting Seth Gecko and his runaway mindset.

 

The music is loud and it pulses over the crowd that is building up as the night carries on. The DJ is going strong, the music is mostly beats and incoherent Spanish slurs that count for lyrics. Kate is leaning against the bar when the bartender finally gives her a refill. He slides the potent glass of caramel colored liquid to her and Kate doesn’t even think twice before downing it.

 

It burns across the back of her tongue and down her throat. Kate doesn’t even make a face as she slams the little glass back down and smooths a hand over her lips, wiping away any falling drops. She’s actually put on makeup tonight and her hair is brushed out, different from its normal snarl of desert sand and knots. Her hands pull away from the bar and smooth over her dress for the millionth time that night.

 

She’s culebra hunting on her own. There’s no Seth Gecko for back up and she’s made herself a pretty piece of bait. Black dress, high heels and red lips that would have her father rolling in his grave -- if he had an actual grave. She’s not the preacher’s daughter in this night club. She’s a hunter. She’s a real predator now, just like the monsters she kills. Kate is not afraid of snakes anymore. She follows rumors of Santanico Pandemonium but never finds her and chances are, she never will without the help of a Gecko brother.

 

It doesn’t matter tonight. She wants to dance and she wants to forget the men who took her hostage and changed her life. They took her family, they took her sanity and now she wants a night to herself. She wants a night to dance unlike any daughter of the church should and if a culebra attacks, Kate is ready. Kate has a knife tucked in her dress and a mean right hook that she spent weeks perfecting in fights all across Mexico’s desertlike expanse.

 

The music never slows. In fact, it picks up tempo. Kate is feeling the warming effects of the alcohol crawling over her tanned flesh when she moves away from the bar and into the crowd of people. There are bodies everywhere. Scantily dressed women and men begging to get them closer. Arms are up and hips are pressed close together; there's an energy buzzing in the air and it’s infectious. Kate is already nodding her head by the time she gets farther onto the darkened dance floor and the laser lights flicker on. The room is illuminated in multi-colors and darkness all at the same time. Kate’s arms go up with the beat and she’s dancing. She dances like it’s second nature. Her whole body moves in fluid motions and it doesn’t take long for men to come up and offer a dance with her. Some just move up and wrap their arms around her slender hips and Kate removes them. Her own hands sink down over theirs and, in a quick movement, she grabs their fingers and squeezes, bending them back and pulling from their grip. She yanks the hands away and dances farther away from the strangers. If Seth were here, the first man who touched her would have a broken nose and they would’ve been kicked out.

 

She is completely capable of taking care of herself. She doesn’t need him to take care of her anymore. She can go anywhere she wants, head in any direction and fully depend on herself because he obviously didn’t want to keep up the crusade. Kate moves farther onto the dance floor and doesn’t bother anymore with the low-lives around her. She goes back to dancing. Her hips sliding up and down in patterns as her hands go up, one digging in her dark hair, pushing it off the back of her neck. She’s entranced with the heavy beat. The music is pulsing around her, blocking out the world as she closes her eyes and tilts her head back. This is her church now.

 

The dance floor is where she belongs. Kate is an absolute natural with long legs and slender arms. It isn’t until there’s a new set of hands on her that Kate feels the jolt of annoyance. As if she hadn’t already established her dominance before, she would actually have to break someone’s fingers now just to get the point across. When her hands slip down the flesh, she encounters it to be cool. It’s not ice cold but it’s cool and the hands are much bigger than her own. They cover most of her hips. She turns her head over, peering in the darkness of the dance floor. The familiar shape of glasses catches her attention and suddenly Kate’s heart is in her throat.

 

She can’t remember how to breathe and doesn’t need to, because in an instant Richie is pressing his lips over hers. Kate is at a loss. The kiss is blotting out all her senses. It’s like the world has slowed down and the music has faded to a soft lullaby. His lips are everything she remembered from the Twister. They are soft and hesitant, but that hesitation is gone when she kisses him back. It’s instinct to kiss him back, or at least that’s what Kate is telling herself as she feels his hand move up and close over her jaw. He continues kissing her over her shoulder before Kate comes to her senses. Three years of searching and he stumbles on to her and kisses her.

 

There is no ‘Hello Kate’, no standard greeting or cliché quotes of meeting again. It is just an impromptu dance and uninvited kiss. Kate is the one who pulls away from him. She turns and tries to face him when he steers her back around and pulls her where he wants her. Her back presses against his chest and he keeps his hands on her narrow hips with tight fingers. He’s holding on to her and leaning his head down against the side of her head. His lips ghost over the shell of her ear and he whispers to her. Despite the music, Kate can hear him loud and clear: “One more dance.”

 

She doesn’t remember how to move so Richie moves for her. He guides her hips back into the same patterns she had been dancing to before, in slow motions despite the fast beats. His forehead presses to her temple. His skin is cool and she can feel his breath slipping over her cheek. For a moment, it’s like no time has passed.

 

Richie still looks like the lost boy inside the RV. Waiting to pray for forgiveness with her, waiting to repent his sins but unable to grasp the concept. Kate’s heart beats a million miles per hour now and the world has gone back into full motions. The beat is so loud it’s deafening. She can barely remember to close her mouth when he turns his head in and buries his face against her neck. His glasses bump her jaw and his lips are against the column of her throat. Kate tilts her head for him and her eyes flutter shut, blocking out the nightclub and its occupants. He’s still moving her hips.

 

He’s pressing his mouth over the part of her neck where her pulse is jumping under the skin. Kate isn’t moving of her own free will anymore. She’s trying to catch her breath, she’s trying to move her fingers out from under his but there’s no way he’s letting her go. He scrapes sharp teeth over her throat and Kate jumps. She does anything she can to yank her head away from Richie, but she doesn’t have to struggle long.

 

He partially lets go of her and holds onto her right hand, letting her jerk away before he gently pulls and twirls her back around. To any outsider, they resemble experienced dancers. Richie’s other hand moves up and catches Kate’s and he wraps an arm around her middle, pulling her to him. They look like ballroom dancers, out of place in the massive dance floor. He’s moving his fingers over the small of her back and dragging them down over the fabric of her dress.

 

“You look beautiful,” he informs her as he presses his forehead down against hers. He’s stooping down just a bit. In three years, Kate has barely grown an inch or two and Richie is still tall as ever. His forehead is cool against hers and his glasses slip down over his nose, bumping the bridge of hers. Kate wonders if he’s going to kiss her again and she finds her gaze slipping down the edges of his face to his mouth.

 

His lips curve up in to that infamous Gecko smirk and Kate feels a rush of heat to the face but she doesn't look away. She looks him in the eye and tries to hold her ground, because she is no longer the timid preacher’s daughter.

 

“I didn’t wear this for you,” she quickly says and even though the music is loud, she knows he can hear her loud and clear. Kate jerks back a step but Richie’s fingers dig into the fabric of her dress before he apologizes and smooths his palm over the fabric, undoing the wrinkles he’s made. As he smooths over the fabric he lets his fingers go lower and shows he’s not as gentleman-like as he seems. Kate’s eyebrows go up, she moves to step in and her smaller foot crashes on top of his, causing Richie to jerk back. He lets go of her and Kate reaches down into her dress and, with quick fingers, pulls out her knife.

 

Her thumb slides over the clip of the piece of steel and it flicks open. She holds it in her palm like an expert. She’s thankful for the dark environment but knows Richie can see her well armed. He doesn’t cower back. He reaches up and pushes those glasses up the bridge of his nose before shaking his head, almost laughing at her.

 

Richard Gecko is not human. He’s a culebra and carries a faint scar across his throat from Santanico’s mouth closing over his jugular and sucking the life from him. Kate repeats the mantra that he’s not human as he steps forward. Even with all the people around her, Kate holds the knife out. He’s dressed in a suit; it’s black on black with a blood red tie. The tie has snake scales embroidered on it. The sight is not unpleasant but she’s not about to let him just take advantage of her when she has her sights set on bigger prey. Despite her knife, he steps close to her and Kate twirls the blade in her fingers before moving to jam it into his shoulder. Richie’s too quick and he grabs her wrist, squeezing it until her fingers start to twitch. Kate cries out at the pain and drops the knife. It hits his shoulder but no damage is done before it clatters to the floor and Richie kicks it away in to the crowd of people.

 

Keeping his grip on Kate, he moves them away from the dance floor.

 

He walks down the darkened halls, passed the restroom signs and the empty stage where the DJ has set up shop. His fingers never loosen. They’re bruising her flesh and her feet are trying to dig down into the ground. The heels were a bad decision. She’s unstable and slipping along the smooth floor in them. He keeps moving her past the blast of music and through one set of doors that are labeled private. He takes a left and goes through another door that says ‘No Admittance’ in bold silver lettering. Kate is starting to fight back now. She knows if he gets her too far from the dance floor, then no one could hear her scream. Then again with the loud music, no one would ever hear her anyway.

 

Still she doesn’t stop reaching her free hand out, trying to grab on to the edges of door jams as he pulls her along. Kate’s fingers grip on to the edge of one door and she resists him before he gives one quick yank. An annoyed sound falls from his throat as he turns to her and hooks her over his arm and shoulder. In an instant, Kate is falling over his shoulder and she feels like a sack of useless potatoes. His hand smooths over the back of her legs, keeping her dress down. Her hair is curtaining over her face, making it hard for her to see anything. Not to mention it would do her no good to beat on his back. In this position, he had all the power.

 

Kate still kicks and Richie tells her to stop moving. His voice still sounds like it did all that time ago. He sounds like the same Richie, and even looks like him, but Kate knows he’s a scaley-vampire underneath the human facade.  

 

“Where did you learn to dance like that?”

 

“What?” Kate is knocked off guard by the question. She tries to turn her head up and look at him, but it’s no use. She blows out a sigh and dangles there, contemplating how to answer that question. “I guess I always could. Just never did.”

 

“They teach you that in church?” He’s toying with her and Kate rolls her eyes.

 

“Yeah, right after vampire slaying one-oh-one.” She mouths out the words with a smirk of red lips. He drags her off of his shoulder and plants her on the ground in front of a desk. Kate looks around the dark room. It’s partially lit with a lamp on the desk and the rest of the room is dark. It looks like where the manager would sit

 

Kate pulls back from the desk. There’s a shiny shoe sticking out from the corner of the room and a man in a suit with blood all over him and his throat ripped out lies there. She almost gasps but Richie puts a finger over her lips. His index finger traces the bottom line of her lip before pulling it back and inspecting his hand. Her red lipstick has smudged off onto his fingertip.

 

“Did you kill that man?” Kate asks, her eyes not leaving the body in the corner of the room. She’s reaching behind her now, trying to find something to grip on to. Richie’s fingers are moving back to her face. He smooths his palms on both sides of her cheeks, cradling her face before moving his thumbs over the edges of her mouth again.

 

“Yes.” He doesn’t lie to her but he’s not looking her in the eye. He’s looking at her painted lips and moving in slowly. He doesn’t bother asking for a kiss and just takes it. His palms smooth over her face and his fingers dive into her hair as he presses his lips over hers. He takes his time, letting his lips cover hers, letting Kate get one last breath before he cuts her off from the oxygen in the room. In no time, he’s kissing her like a starving man.

 

Kate fights him. Her hands are curling into fists and she’s beating against his arms, but he’s unmoving and his lips don’t let up. Her eyes are wide. He’s towering over her and his fingers slip down her neck, coaxing her back. In no time, her eyes are fluttering shut and he’s sliding his fingers over the edges of her shoulders.

 

By the time he pulls away, her lipstick is smudged. It’s stained red over her freckled jaw and touching part of his lips, but none of that is Kate’s concern as she sucks in a deep breath and looks up at him.  Anger swells within her. “You can’t just do that!” she shouts at him like he should know better.

 

“What?” he asks almost innocently, a slight shrug of his shoulders and a smile playing at his lips.

 

“Kill people!” Kate is trying not to look at the dead man in the corner. Her stomach is churning and everything has gone from bittersweet to sour. She’s a stuttering mess of words and not the big-bad hunter she had turned herself in to. She has seen plenty of dead bodies but now it’s dawning on her that Richie has a plan. She realizes that he had seen her in this establishment long enough to know to kill the manager, to learn the back rooms and how to navigate around crowds of people. He’s a prodigy even in this undead-like state.

 

Kate swallows hard but all he does is shrug. He doesn’t laugh or justify his actions. He reaches forward and slips his fingers under the strap of her black dress. His thumb and forefinger start to rub over the fabric and he’s lost in the inner workings of his mind. “You can’t just take people from their families. From their work and friends and--”

 

“And what Kate? Are you going to do something about it? Do you want to pray about it? We could hold hands.”

 

“Shut up,” Kate snaps. Her voice is strong and unwavering but she feels the flood of anger in her belly. She wants to lash out at him but it’s hard for her to move. Richie is blocking her from the rest of the room. All she can see are filling cabinets and not a whole lot more than that. She can still see the body and it’s making her stomach churn.

 

“C’mon,” he chides softly, slipping his free hand down and grabbing on to her hand. His fingers cover hers and smooth over her palm. “Pray for me, Kate.”

 

“W-What?” She’s trying to make out his words as her eyes flick away from the body and she looks back to Richie and those glasses.

 

He squeezes her fingers gently and leans back over her form. He’s towering and pushing her back. The back of her thighs are pressed against the desk and he’s leaning down once more, eyes roaming over her smudged makeup. “Pray for me,” he pleads softly before stealing one more kiss. The body in the room is momentarily forgotten and Kate squeezes her eyes shut. She’s trying to find her faith as his hand slides from the back of her neck to the front of her throat and grasps the small golden cross. His palm closes over it and he yanks. Kate gasps against his mouth, feeling the chain break. Her faith is lost, buried in the palm of a culebra. All while her own fingers are slipping down behind her. Her palm is searching the desk. She's trying to find anything to stop Richie in his tracks. He has her cross; he took it without a hint of remorse. It was the only thing of her Mama’s possessions she has left.

 

The kiss doesn't last long because Richie is too distracted to keep up the action. He's more interested in the hand behind her back. He's tall enough to look freely over her shoulder and he can make out her fingers stretching along the desk. Her fingers are searching for something, anything to use as a weapon and he watches her grab for the lamp before slamming his palm over her hand.

 

The action is so quick and painful that Kate's dark head falls back and she yells, her fingers trying to escape his palm. Only Richie doesn't let go. No, he steps further in and pins her back against that desk. His hand is bruising the top of hers and Kate isn't backing down. She isn't pleading for him to let go or let up the pressure. Preacher’s daughter has gotten tougher. She tries to stomp his foot again but the moment she moves, Richard has his leg pressed between hers and pushes them apart so he can step closer. Kate isn't having any of it. She moves a leg up and kicks his shin but it does little to no damage. It doesn’t even deter him from pushing her further against the desk. The edge of it is biting into her rear and making her squirm. She wants to squirm away, put distance between herself and the culebra, but it’s no use. She’s pinned and she’s enjoying it way too much. There’s no heavy cross against her throat to stop her now. There’s no Seth Gecko to cloud her thoughts or throw off-handed compliments and complaints to her. There’s just Richie and his mouth closing over her throat. His free hand is moving up and brushing her hair off of her neck.

 

It takes all of Kate’s will to lean back away from him. She leans back, closer to the desk and farther from him, but it only fuels him on. He finally lets go of her hand and her fingers flex to let the feeling return to them. Both of his hands begin the crawl down her back, fingers starting to wrinkle and wrap around the black fabric of her dress. It bunches against his palms and he mutters something into her neck. His breath is warm and wet as he asks her to pray.

 

"One prayer," he urges her as he pushes closer and she has no choice but to move with him. It's either move with him or snap in two at the odd angle of the desk and his hips. So she opts to lean her back against the expanse of his hands and her head turns away from him. All her squirming works in Richie's favor because the more she turns her head away the more her throat is exposed. He takes advantage of her now. His hands slip along the expanse of her back and he pulls her up from the desk as his lips start in with opened mouth kisses along her neck. Kate has trouble catching her breath. There is a red flush that begins along her chest and crawls up along her features. She's trying to control the pounding of her heart, but it's no use. She wonders if he can hear it, if he can hear the way her whole body betrays her under his touch. The very tip of his tongue slips over the curve of her neck and he takes a quick nip at her collar.

 

"Just give me an amen." He toys with her. She can feel him grinning against her flesh and his teeth start their teasing. It does nothing but ignite the fire to fight within her. Kate's teeth are clenched and she's moving again, trying to push her knee up into his soft stomach but she can't move very well. In this position, he is king.

 

Kate lashes out with a quick slap of her palm. She connects with his head and her smeared lips part with a sharp tone. "No!"

 

As she hits him, the glasses are knocked askew. They teeter before falling from his face and on to the desk. For a moment, he doesn't look like Richie. His eyes close and he takes a deep breath, so deep that Kate can feel his chest press over hers briefly.

 

"Am I not worth forgiving?" He speaks and it's so quiet that it takes Kate by complete surprise.

 

Growing up in the church taught her an infinite amount of patience and wisdom. She had the knowledge that God only gave what people could take. Then again Kate wasn't so sure what she could take anymore. It wasn't like God was exactly here with her, helping her slay culebra for a living. Still, she knew everyone could be forgiven. Even the snake above her with that lost little boy look. Richie hasn’t lost the look of the baby brother, the one who needs reassurance and praise. Kate swallows before she shakes her head.

 

"I didn't say that," she insists. She feels seventeen again. She wants to reach her hand out and grab his, pray for absolution and move on but she can't do that now. There is no moving on. Richie Gecko is not looking for absolution. He’s not looking for forgiveness. She knows he’s seeking something else, but what it is she doesn’t have. Or at least that’s what she tells herself as his hands slip from her back to her stomach. He’s holding on to her sides, thumbs moving in small circles against the fabric of her dress. Kate sucks in a deep breath and lets her head fall back against the desk. She can feel folders and papers under her as she feels him press gently against her stomach. He’s letting her lay back against the dead man’s desk. At least in this position she can’t see the corpse. She can only see pieces of the room and the dark ceiling above her. She can see Richie’s glasses on the desk next to her and when she turns her head up, she can see that lost look is gone and something else has replaced it. His fingers slip over her hips and burn a trail so hot, she can feel the third degree through her dress.

 

“...But you did,” Richie insists softly. His tone is soft but still accusing as his fingers slip lower. They’re drawing up along her legs until he’s reached the end of fabric. Kate swallows so loud he can hear it and it makes him smirk. His thumbs start their stroking, catching flesh that’s uncovered by the black fabric. He pushes the edges of the dress further up her thighs and exposes more tanned flesh. She’s tan from too many motel pools, sunbathing and riding with her arms hanging out of the windows of stolen cars. It’s darkened her hair a bit and it has made her freckles more pronounced. They dot across her flesh like constellations and Richie’s entranced by the way they run along her legs.  He pulls her legs up and the dress falls against her waist, not exposing her just yet but enough to make her jump. She shifts and he pushes her a little harder against the desk as if daring her to move. Holding her by the back of her thighs, he starts with his index finger and follows a trail of freckles, connecting them like a child would with pen and paper. He’s playing connect the dots further up her legs and Kate can’t seem to remember how to fight anymore. Her skin is on fire against his touch and her mouth has gone dry. Her head turns up to the ceiling and she has to blink a few times to catch up to reality.  Her hands move down to where the dress is bunched up and she starts pushing it back down her thighs, blocking Richie’s work of connecting the dots.

 

There’s an irritated growl that falls from his mouth and he lets go of her thighs. Her legs fall back against the desk. Both of his hands wrap around her wrists and her fingers curl into the fabric, gripping it harder. “Let go,” he tells her softly. It’s not a command, but he squeezes her wrists just to emphasize the words.

 

Kate doesn’t let go. She’s stubborn and a survivor, a fighter; all side effects of traveling with Seth Gecko for so long. He taught her enough and she has a natural instinct to protect herself. Even if she has to protect herself from Richie. His grip lightens and his thumbs stroke over the flesh of her wrists gently. They’re already showing slight bruising from his earlier forces. He has more strength than he ever did as a human and it often slips his mind. He soothes the flesh until her fingers start to uncurl. Kathe releases the dress and he moves his hands up with hers and plants them on either side of her head. Her hair is fanned out over the papers and at this angle she resembles a fallen angel. One with dark hair, green eyes and smeared lipstick. Licking over his bottom lip, Richie’s fingers slide away from her wrists and crawl up the insides of her forearm, gently stroking the soft flesh before moving back to her ribs. His palms slide along the length of her form and he memorizes all the new curves that have come with three years of hard work. Kate’s hands don’t move. She lets them stay where they are because she’s too busy watching his face as he traces out her silhouette. His brows pull together and his lips part as he moves his hands over her dress, pulling the fabric tight to show the pronounced shape of her hips.

 

He's so entranced with her body that he doesn't see her close her eyes and start mouthing a familiar prayer. His hands slip lower and her words are soft and breathless as she feels him pushing the dress up and it bunches at her waist. He exposes her black panties and his thumbs smooth over her thighs. He's counting sun-kissed freckles and pushing her further back on the desk. Her breath hitches as his index finger slides over the thin barrier of her underwear. Her hips jerk up a fraction and he slings his forearm across the front of her hips to hold her down as he traces a line back and forth over the juncture of her thighs. Kate unsteadily jerks up against his hold but Richie is unmoving. He holds her tightly to the desk and the edge of his finger toys with the satin seam of the her underwear.

 

"...And forgive us our debts." Kate’s words are getting louder. She crosses her hands over her face, blocking out the room as she feels him pulling her hips up just enough to gather the fabric of her panties and yanks them down her legs. Kate presses her knees together and jerks a leg out to kick him. She's more angry than embarrassed. They can't do this here in this room. Not where that man lost his life. His body isn't even cold yet, and here's Richie between her legs.

 

"Don't."

 

He only warns her once. A sharp and cold tone as his fingers gently grasp onto her legs. He's trying to apologize with soft strokes of his palms slipping down her thighs. Richie gently pushes a palm to each leg and pushes them apart. There's that moment of embarrassment that rushes over Kate but she swallows it and continues praying.  

 

"...As we have also forgiven our debtors."

 

Richie glances up to her face. He's watching her with interest as he slowly lowers her legs and runs his hands over the tops of them before gripping her hips. His eyes don't leave hers as he pulls her in.

 

"Say it again." His voice is hoarse and he's licking over his lips as his suit covered hips press into her bare ones. The dress she so painstakingly picked out is wrinkled against her stomach, bunched up and exposing her to him.

 

Kate closes her lips and shakes her head. Richie reaches a hand up and he grips her face. He repeats the request. She still doesn't repeat the words and Richie's hand tightens over her jaw, his thumb sliding over the remnants of her lipstick. "Please?" He pleads it softly to her as his fingers lighten their grip and his other hand slips over the juncture of her legs. Kate's anger flares but it subsides when he starts pushing closer to her. He's leaning over her now, his index finger pushing against her folds. In a matter of seconds, he's invading her. He's pushes his finger all the way to his second knuckle and she is the one who breaks and moans.

 

Her emerald eyes flutter shut as she parts her lips and falls into the sensation of the intrusion on her body. His thumb slips over her bottom lip and he feels her tongue press over the pad of his finger, mimicking his movements between her legs. It doesn't take long for Richie to bring Kate to the edge but he doesn't let her fall. His finger slowly pulls back and he enters a second one with it. It makes the preacher’s daughter gasp and he pushes his thumb further into her hot mouth. Her red lips close over the digit and he groans before pulling his hand away from her thighs. He reaches for his glasses that are cast aside on the desk and slips them back onto his face while she whines from the sudden loss of contact around his thumb. He pulls that hand away from her as well and moves both hands up to the straps that lace dress on her slender shoulders.

 

Kate is flushed and she's having difficulty remembering how to breathe. This is not her first time. This is her first time with Richie Gecko and a culebra at that. The flush never leaves her face as she feels his fingers pulling the straps down her shoulders. He's pushing the dress lower, letting it bunch at her belly and expose the second piece of lingerie she wore. The black lace is beautiful against her tanned skin and Richie lets that be known as he leans in and buries his face against the center of her chest. He has a moment to breathe, to memorize how she looks now. Under him and full of fire, beautiful and forgiving. It makes his throat constrict. He can't waste any more time with her. He pulls at the straps of the bra and pushes it askew before he presses his lips over her flesh.  The younger Gecko starts right, dragging his lips over one nipple and then his tongue follows suit. It isn’t until he bites that Kate remembers he’s not human anymore and that bite is sharp. It causes a twinge of pain before it fades away.

 

He moves to her left breast and continues the same treatment, making the flesh red and angry with bite marks, making Kate flushed and slightly annoyed with his habits. Richie drags his teeth lower, nipping the underside of one breast. The flesh there is slightly paler and softer than her calloused hands. His bite breaks skin and she jerks away from him.

 

He doesn’t let her get far. His hands grip down on to her hips and he pulls her back into him, burying his face next to broken skin and sliding the flat expanse of his tongue over the small drop of blood that wells up. The hunter instinct in Kate is telling her to fight back now. Fight while he is distracted by blood, fight while her hands are free. Her fingers flex and she looks to the side. There's a small desk lamp to her right and nothing to her left. Richie is too distracted. His tongue is moving over the bite mark and he's making this soft noise against her skin that tells her he's enjoying this a little too much.

 

Kate snatches the lamp and brings it down, crashing hard into Richie's head. He is temporarily jarred and knocked off of her form. The small woman scrambles off of the desk and loses balance on the heels that are still strapped to her feet. She manages to right herself and pulls the dress back up to her shoulders trying cover up as much as possible while Richie is quickly recovering. It doesn't take him long to do so because in an instant he's back in front of her, adjusting those glasses and towering over her. Kate shows no fear though, she’s got this half-smirk tugging at her lips and she’s pushing her dress down over her legs.

 

“You had to make this hard. You were always so good before.” He shakes his head. “You used to move so easily.”

 

“Yeah, but then I got a spine,” Kate interjects his monologue with a sharp statement. She’s always had a spine. Now it’s just more present, she’s worked on not being timid, being more outspoken and headstrong. It’s gotten her bumps and bruises but it’s also kept her alive all this time on her own.

 

Richie stalks forward again and Kate moves to go around the desk. They could do this dance all night. Her insides are still warm and between her legs is still wet from his fingers, but she’s not to be taken advantage of. Kate is not a victim. She never wants to be thought of as one or made into one. So she rounds the desk and he looks annoyed. His brows go up and his eyes roll because he can easily reach the expanse of the desk. So that’s what he does. She thinks she’s far enough out of reach, but he shoots a hand out to grab her. She runs to the right, where he turns and grabs her by her upper arm. Her feet leave the ground as his other hand wraps around her waist and he pulls her back against his chest. Kate’s legs kick up and she shouts obscenities at him before he turns them both and slams her against the desk none-too-gently. Her cheek presses to the desk and her lips part out of shock. Her breath spans over the cold wood and she’s in a momentary state of shock. She can feel Richie smoothing his hands down over her hips, then his fingers grip on to the fabric of the dress and he pulls it up, wrinkling it all over again. His hands push it away from her hips and then he drags his fingers down over the backs of her thighs. Kate freezes. A mix of fear and excitement is bubbling in her stomach and she’s not happy her back is to him. She would rather see him than be forced to stare at the paperwork that’s strewn around the desk.  She pulls her hands up to push herself up and her elbows shake when he slides a hand onto her back and pushes her back down. She does not hide her irritation. She kicks back at him and Richie slides in closer, his legs knocking hers apart, smoothing his hand over the curve of her rear and then pushing against her flesh, exposing her once more.

 

Her hands move to push herself up again but there’s no use in fighting his weight. So she closes her eyes and tries to ignore his compliments. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”  

 

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. “You can remember leaving us?” she says like it’s poison stuck to the roof of her mouth. She doesn’t want to get emotional about Richie leaving them, but he did and it killed Seth. Kate picked up those pieces and did her best to put him back together but there’s no cure for a lost brother. “I’m surprised you’re here. I’m surprised your girlfriend let you off your leash.”

 

There’s a moment of silence before his palm connects with her rear and Kate turns ten shades of red as she quickly jerks her head over her shoulder. She gives him this look with both eyebrows raised and her mouth parted in shock. Richie reaches up and presses his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and gives her a sly grin. He looks like the boy at the Dew Drop Inn pool.

 

“She’s none of your business, Katie.” Richie plays the nickname and reaches down, pushing her dropped jaw close. His fingers linger there as he traces down her jaw and pulls her head up just enough for him to lean over and kiss her again. This kiss is much different from the one on the dance floor. This one is more chaste and then slowly becomes needy. He presses his chest over her back and kisses her harder. His mouth moves over hers and with a few coaxing fingers slipping down her legs, he manages to get his tongue against hers when she gasps. Richie pushes another digit inside of Kate and she practically pushes her hips back against his hand, her mouth opening a little wider to capture his full attention.

 

It works because he moves his tongue over hers and practically groans against her when she pushes her tongue over his. They fight for dominance and Kate is winning until he pushes a second finger inside of her and Kate loses the kiss. She breaks for air and pants softly. He moves his free hand down her back, drawing his palm down her spine and to the small of her back where he presses down and keeps her against the desk while he takes control. There are small trails of liquid slipping past Kate’s thighs and she’s a pretty shade of flushed all over, her breathing erratic. He can tell by the way her fingers clench into fists that she’s close to the edge again.  

 

He doesn’t let her fall. He slowly pulls both fingers out of her and presses his palm over her until her hips are pushing back to keep going. He denies her attempts for more and pulls back. There’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he wraps both hands around her hips and turns her over carefully. He doesn’t throw her on the desk this time. Instead, he gently nudges her over and presses her back into the wood. She’s flushed all over. The deep stain of red on her cheeks tells him she’s enjoying it but the look in her eyes is pure fire. She wants a fight. She wants to prove to him that she’s not the same girl he left three years ago. He hooks his hand behind her neck and guides her up. His lips crash against hers and they’re in another fight for dominance. Kate’s hands move up this time and he lets them dive into his hair. She messes up the slick-backed hair with small tugs and pulls him closer. They kiss until she can’t breathe and she is first to break away, turning her head to the side and panting as he buries his face in the crook of her neck. Her legs slide around his waist and she locks them behind him, trying to urge him closer. He’s taken her to the edge plenty, but she’s yet to fall. It’s a madness that she needs to cure and maybe this is a bad mistake, but she’ll face those consequences later.

 

The dead man in the room is long forgotten. Kate slides her hands down the front of Richie’s shirt and she tugs at his tie, undoing it before she moves to the buttons of his black shirt. She’s undoing them with fumbling fingers while his mouth closes over her pulse point. Her hips press against his when he jerks forward and the mere motion of it all is enough to make her gasp again. Richie is enjoying this too much because he does it again and it distracts her enough to break a button on his shirt. Kate mutters a quick apology but Richie doesn’t seem to mind because his mouth is sliding lower. He’s pressing kisses along her collarbone and biting at the top curve of her left breast when Kate gets to his belt. She can’t seem to get the belt undone and it’s a frustrating experience. He laughs against her flesh and it raises all the hairs on the back of her neck with a sort of static electricity. Kate’s bottom lip trembles as he moves his fingers down over hers and he takes her wrist, spanning her fingers out and rubbing her hand over the front of his pants. She can feel everything through the expensive and thin fabric.

 

Kate has had sex before. She’s slept with Seth and it was good. She’s slept with a personal conquest at a bar and it was mediocre at best. Nothing like this; nothing electrifying and exciting. No one elicited such sensations for her as Richie did now. This is not her first time, but it is with this Gecko brother and she’s wondering now if it’s a good idea or not but tries not to linger on it. Seth has left her. He’s drowning himself in some tequila bottle and Richie is using her palm to show her his excitement. It’s enough to turn her a deeper shade of red but she resists. She moves her fingers over to the zipper and he helps her with the stubborn belt. In no time his pants are slipping to his knees with his boxers and Kate’s smaller hand is wrapped around him. He’s groaning and searching for her mouth again. They kiss as he starts rocking his hips against her hand, urging her on with his tongue sliding over her bottom lip. Kate hesitates but nips at his tongue and then his bottom lip when he starts to pull away. She’s not being gentle with him, because he’s not being gentle with her.

 

He’s already bitten and bruised her.

 

Richie’s forehead presses over hers and he’s looking at her over the rim of his glasses, lips curving up in a knowing smile. He knows she’s going to fight him. Her body wants him, part of Kate really wants him, but she’s not going down without a fight. She’s not going to let him just take advantage of her all over again. She’s not the preacher’s daughter anymore. She’s a fighter, she’s a hunter, she’s a woman with a set of skills that she will use until the day she dies. So, Richie tests her. He leans in to kiss her again and she presses her lips back over his before biting at his bottom lip. She sucks it against her lips. He’s practically in euphoria as she draws a little bit of blood. Her fingers squeeze over his length and Richie is pulling on her hips now, knocking her hand away. He’s grabbing on to her hips and pushes her legs apart, unlocking them from his waist, fingers tracing over the constellations of her freckles. Kate arches her hips up against his hands and he pushes himself inside of her.

 

There’s a collective gasp from both of them. Kate has a moment of shock with her hips arching up off of the desk and her elbows shaking from her weight. Her lips part in a sharp intake of breath and her brows furrow together. He’s big enough to hurt but the pain ebbs away quickly. Richie pulls her in a little closer, his hands spreading across the small of her back. His fingers spread out and cover most of her hips and he pulls her to him harder. His hips crash against hers and his lips find hers once more. They’re battling for dominance and control but it’s harder for Kate now because he’s rocking his hips into hers with a slow steady rhythm that’s picking up its pace. Kate’s hands move up to his chest. The shirt is still open and she pulls on the edges of the fabric, pressing closer to him before dragging her hands down over the front of his torso. Her fingers curl and she drags her nails down over the hard planes of his stomach. His muscles twitch and she breaks the kiss to sneak a peek of her fingers on his hips, dipping along the ‘v’ that leads south. Her thumbs stroke over the lines and Richie groans as his lips press over her temple and down to her earlobe. He mutters something incoherent against her ear and she turns her head to the side for him. He takes advantage of that and sinks his fangs into her throat. The secondary intrusion causes her to scream. She barely gets a hold on to him when his arms circle around her, he pulls her to the edge of the desk and slams harder in to her. He’s bruising her hips and his mouth is making sucking noises against her throat.

 

Her blood floods over his tongue and it’s sweeter than anything he’s ever tasted in this afterlife. It’s a mix of milk and honey, coppery and yet sweet. She’s a sun in comparison to his moon and Richie can’t get enough. He’s rocking his hips harder into hers, pulling her tighter until their chests are nearly crushed together and he can feel her own hips trying to keep up pace but failing. Her stomach is tightening and he can tell by the gasps she’s making that she’s close to the edge. He slowly releases her throat and licks over the puncture wounds. It’s disgusting and yet Kate is in heaven. Her eyes squeeze shut and she can feel his warm tongue sliding over her throat when his hand dips between her legs and she’s lost. She’s lost the fight. Her limbs are going limp but he’s still rocking into her, his hands moving up and combing over her hair, pressing against her face. He tells her to look at him while he’s close to the edge. His hips pick up pace when Kate’s gaze flicks up to his and she parts her lips to say something sarcastic, but it never comes. She’s too caught in his gaze to speak and then his eyes squeeze shut and he’s suddenly gripping on to her tight enough to bruise. His hips crash in to hers and there’s a rush of warmth between her legs as he slows his movements. His hands slip down to her waist and he pushes her back gently, laying her against the desk.

 

Without explanation, he leans over her and lays his head against her chest. He’s still partially buried inside of her and Kate finds herself looking at the ceiling. She’s unsure of what to say. Her heart is pounding enough for the both of them. She can feel it echoed back against her sternum like it’s his own heart beating. His hair is tickling her collarbone. Carefully she reaches down and her fingers slip through his hair. She strokes his hair while his fingers hold on to her sides and slip down to her hips. There he draws little circles and patterns against the flesh and he’s not the smug culebra he was moments ago. He’s back to being Richie. The one she remembers from three years ago, lost and confused and holding onto an anchor. He doesn’t apologize. Richie has never apologized for anything in his life and he isn’t about to start now.

 

“You are very beautiful,” he repeats again. Like Kate hasn’t heard him all night long, he says it like a reassurance. His thumbs drawing down to her legs and he’s not uncomfortable against her like this but they can’t stay. The manager’s co-workers will probably start to look for him and Richie doesn’t want anymore blood tonight. He wants to remember the taste on his tongue. The blood of Kate Fuller who is no longer seventeen and naive. She’s a woman with curves and a fire that he wants to burn in.

 

Kate only moans when he shifts out of her and there’s the warmth slipping down her legs. She tries not to think about it as he moves away from her, pulling her fingers from his hair. He adjusts the glasses on his face and takes her face in his hands, thumbs tracing over her jawline. “Where are you going? Where’s Santanico?” Kate asks him suddenly. She sees the anger burn across his face.

 

“Leave her out of this Katie,” he warns her. It’s a quiet growl that sends shivers down her spine. Kate resists the urge to cover up because she’s worried if she puts the dress back on, he’ll be gone when she turns around. This is her last chance to get information from him, to piece Seth back together, to kill off the Snake Queen and who knows, maybe live happily ever after.

 

“--But,” she objects and he leans back in and plants a soft kiss along her swollen lips. She’s distracted but not for long, because she pulls back and presses her forehead against his. “Just tell me Richie.”

 

“No.” He’s firmer this time. He moves away from her, pulling his pants back up his legs. “This doesn’t concern you. I found you tonight because you’re too close. It’s time for you to go now, Kate. You’re time is up, you’re free.”

 

“W-What?” Kate slips off the edge of the desk. She’s sore and can feel her muscles tense up. Tomorrow she’s going to be covered in bruises. “Too close? Too close to what? To her?”

 

“You’re too close, Kate. You’re free. I’m setting you free. Go.” He’s angrier this time. He buttons up his shirt before he runs his hands through his hair, trying to gather himself up.  No one has addressed the actual body in the room, Kate is too busy pulling her straps back up and pushing her dress down. She doesn’t bother to find her underwear. It’s too dark in the room to find a piece of black fabric and she’s too entranced with his words.

 

“Free? Oh no, I am not free. I’m stuck in this hellhole of a place until she’s dead.” Kate finds her anger surging again. It doesn’t matter that moments ago she was intimate with the younger Gecko. What matters now is his words and her mission. Santanico Pandemonium has to die to bring the brothers back together, to fix Seth, to fix all this mess. She wants to go home, but home is a whole new definition now. Home is with the Geckos. Even if they are screwed up and mismatched, they’re a weird sense of family and familiarity.

 

“She’s not going to die, but you are if you don’t leave now. You’re too close.” He’s repeating those words while he faces her, his hands moving to her shoulders and giving her a quick shake. He shakes her in hopes of showing her some sense. It doesn’t help though because her head starts to shake against his words. Her hair is a knotted mess and is sticking to the sweat that’s beading up along her flesh.

 

“No.” Kate shakes her head again. “No, I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Anger flashes over Richie’s face. He’s not used to being told no, even in this afterlife. He grabs her arms and tugs. He doesn’t care that she’s a stumbling mess. He doesn’t care that the smell of sweat and sex clings to her like a second skin. He drags her out of the office. Fluorescent lights down the hallway blot out his vision but they fade and he’s moving her even further from the club. He guides her toward an emergency exit sign and kicks the door partially open with way too much force. Kate cringes as he leads her into the desert night and presses her back against a wall of the neighboring building. They are shielded from most of the traffic outside, but Kate can’t see very well. There’s no lights that reach this far back on to the street and she’s struggling to move her hands up. She wants to hold on to him, shake him and interrogate him. He cradles her face in his hands and towers over her, head tilted down. She can just barely make out his features. Concern is flashing over his face, concern and something like guilt, but Kate can’t bank on that in the darkness. He moves in and his thumb slips over her bottom lip once more. All traces of her lipstick are gone.

 

“Pray for me, Kate,” he whispers so softly she barely hears it. Before she can react or even nod he’s leaning in and kissing her gently. His lips ghost over hers before he repeats his words. “Pray for me.”

 

Then he’s gone. Just like that he’s vanished from her, from the street His hands leave her face and his lips are no longer hovering over hers. When Kate blinks her green eyes open, she’s alone and her heart is slamming in her chest. She’s alone again. There’s no Seth and now there is no Richie.

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